That Guy: Bedroom fireworks rekindle old flame

Photo / Bay of Plenty Times

The following is an excerpt from my new romantic novel entitled Burning Desire, which I am about to submit to Mills and Boone:

John read the note to himself over and over again. He couldn't believe that after all this time she wanted to meet him again.

There was no denying that they were madly in love once but as summer faded seamlessly to autumn the flames of passion were starved of fuel and eventually oxygen.

He could still recall the day she told him there were no longer any fireworks between them; that it was over.

But now in her note she wrote fondly about the times they picnicked by the lake in Somerset, how they danced until dawn in Verona and, word for word, she even quoted some of the poems he had written for her all those years ago.

Finally she wrote that she needed to see him again.

Though a day hadn't gone by that he hadn't thought of her, he was surprised to hear from her and he was also surprised by how she was able to get so much into a single text message.

He hadn't heard from her in 16 years and in that time so much had happened. John had spent many years searching for that elusive spark, for another lover he could set his heart for once again but, alas, other than a short, passionate but selfish homosexual affair in a Moroccan prison, it was never meant to be.

That relationship had hurt John physically but with Laura the wounds were less obvious, for it was his heart that was scarred. The thought of seeing her again frightened him - could things ever be the same? And besides, so much water had gone under the bridge where John now lived.

John didn't live under a bridge through choice; he simply refused to succumb to pressure from developers and move, so they built the four-lane toll bridge right over his house. John had always been a man of principle but remaining in his house had been an ongoing battle that he paid the price for on a daily basis. This was mainly due to legal fees and the fact that whenever he entered or left his own driveway he had to pay the bridge toll.

Then the door bell rang! John would know that familiar ring anywhere, for it was his doorbell, but who was doing the ringing? Could it be her, the love of his life, standing at the threshold?

John opened the door and there before him was Laura.

John stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. Like him she had aged - she had put on a few pounds and her once gargantuan breasts had clearly sagged with time.

He hadn't had a chance to look at her face when she said: "John, I have missed you, make love to me."

Moments later, John and Laura were tight in each other's arms, their legs entwined as they rolled around on John's bed in slow motion.

So much time had passed but for that moment, other than Laura's breasts, it was as if for the past 16 years time had stood still. Everything was so familiar. John and Laura were now naked and John's moist fingers fondled her nipples with the precision and dexterity of somebody attempting to tune in a short wave radio.

John knew what Laura liked and he was determined to rekindle the fires of desire. They made love for hours and then, as darkness fell, Laura, with eyes closed, felt a warmth emanating from her loins.

She felt a warm glow all around John as he kissed her passionately on her moist lips and then, in the heat of the moment, she felt some heat for a moment. She opened her eyes to see an incredible display of pyrotechnics erupting from John's backside.

She saw sparks, fireballs and whistling sky rockets shooting from his buttocks.

A Mt Vesuvius-type Roman candle placed carefully between his cheeks was the centrepiece of John's fireworks display and it shot bright yellow and orange balls of light all over the room.

Technically at this time of year John shouldn't have had access to these kinds of pyrotechnics but fortunately for him he had met a little Asian man at an inner-city food hall who could get what he needed, and it was this man who had lit the fuses and was now standing by with a bucket of water should the curtains catch on fire.

As the last of the more expensive roman candles pumped skyward from John's backside and the room became engulfed in coloured smoke and the erotic smell of phosphorous and sulphur, Laura gave herself to John completely.

She had never seen or heard anything like it since the opening of the Sky Tower in 1996 and she vowed to give their love a second chance. John suffered only minor second-degree burns to his buttocks but he was once again living in the moment, and though it wasn't cheap he had managed to rekindle the passion between them.